


Coda

by fivebrights



Category: Owlboy (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, takes place immediately post-game, therefore end-game spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivebrights/pseuds/fivebrights
Summary: The first thing to do was to survive the fall. The second was to find Otus and bring him home.





	1. Part I

Alphonse had long known the price for flying was falling.

Owls had asserted their superiority with flight. Their machines, their servants—they weren’t meant to fly. The Owls had deemed it sacrilege. And so falling meant certain death, even after Molstrom had defied their masters with the construction of flying ships.

Alphonse had another long fall, lifetimes ago. Somehow, he had been spared with nothing more than a broken off arm and several large dents. The others had been left twisted wrecks of wires, metal, gears and sprockets.

He had buried the pieces of his old companions, pulled splintered timber from the ship to serve as the burial markers. It was the best he could manage.

Being at the end was a price Alphonse could accept alone. But the lives of Masters Otus, Geddy, Twig, and Solus were now in the balance.

Alphonse clutched his hat to his head. The people he could save—his new companions, his friends—were falling somewhere among the shattered remains of the Tower.

“Alphonse!” someone cried then. It was Geddy, his own hat lost, knocked off by the blast of the Anti-Hex. “Do you see Otus?”

“Master Geddy, I do not!”

Twig was spread-eagled in the air nearby, eyes open but unfocused. “Twig!” Geddy shouted.

Something grabbed Alphonse by his collar then, slowing his descent with a jerk. It was Solus, his cloak working furiously against the thin air. With another rough jerk Solus propelled them through the air, then dropped haphazardly so that Twig was in reach. “Grab on!” Solus shouted, hoarsely.

Twig blinked sluggishly, his groan lost in the whistle of the freezing air rushing up past their ears. Then he blinked several more times, eyes clearing, and tried to twist around in the air, taking in their plummet.

“Woah!” he yelped, and quickly grabbed Alphonse’s outstretched hands with his own. His other two stretched out toward Geddy, and another wild jerk from Solus brought him within reach, too.

“We have to get Otus!” Geddy yelled, grabbing on. Far away through the chaos of debris, a streak of light was hurtling toward the planet’s surface.

“Otus!” Geddy shouted, uselessly. Then the world spun and the glimmer was lost. Geddy, Twig, and Alphonse all shouted their alarm as Solus lurched them out of the way of a gigantic broken owl statue that spun toward the ocean below.

“Master Solus, are you quite all right?” bellowed Alphonse.

Solus was breathing hard, his owl cloak shuddering with every wingbeat. He glanced down at Alphonse, uncomprehendingly, and then his eyes slid shut. His owl cloak closed.

They accelerated back into freefall. Solus’s grip slackened, but Alphonse locked a hand around one of Solus’s bracers, staying anchored.

“Master Solus is unconscious!”

“ _What?_ ” cried Geddy.

They all looked down in panic. The snowcapped landmass of Mesos was below them, and it seemed to rise toward them even as everything fell.

“Maybe the snow will cushion our fall!” yelled Geddy, desperately, as it came closer. The tops of trees were visible now, dense clumps of evergreen pins.

“It won’t!” Twig yelled back.

The trees lengthened like spears, their tips glimmering with ice and snow.

“ _Solus!_ ”

Solus’s eyelids fluttered and his cloak burst open. He fully opened his eyes, gasped, and tried to pull them up and away. They clipped the tops of the trees and went spinning, losing their grip on one another. They fell in a scattered heap into the snow drifts and lay there, bruised and winded.

Alphonse stood first, coming over and offering his hand to them. Twig sprung up without help, but Geddy took his hand gratefully, as did Solus. Air was still rushing up past them, but it was warmer now, and the sky was deep blue instead of indigo and black.

“I-is everyone all right?” asked Solus, clutching his cloak over his shoulders and shivering. Gray dust and plaster rained around them, mixing with the snow.

Geddy was running his hand over his windblown hair and frowning. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Twig checked himself over and shrugged. “I’m good. But what about Otus?”

“Otus!” exclaimed Geddy. “That light had to be Otus falling!”

“Yeah,” said Twig. “But fell where?”

“Master Otus still has the teleporter,” reasoned Alphonse. “It will take us to him.”

“But it needs manual activation,” Geddy said, face pinched with worry. “He might be too hurt to use it. And we can’t just wait!”

“I-I’ll go,” Solus said. Everyone looked at him.

“No way,” protested Geddy. “You could barely move back there!”

“You did pass out on us for a few seconds,” Twig pointed out.

Solus’s jaw set. “I can still l-look for Otus. B-besides, I’m the o-only one with an owl cloak.”

“Master Solus, if I may,” said Alphonse. “Would it be possible for us to borrow your cloak and bring Otus back in your stead?”

Solus shook his head sorrowfully. “Y-you can’t. B-but d-don’t get me wrong! I-I would have you take my cloak, but i-it’s not just something you can _use._ You h-h,” he gulped in air, “h-have to learn how to fly with it.”

“We don’t have time for that!” said Geddy. “Let’s just get an airship and look for him!”

“Hrmm,” said Alphonse, his arms crossing and his chin falling to his chest. “We must act quickly. I do not know if the rest of the fleet is yet aware of Molstrom’s demise, but these falling islands will have left them off-guard and disorganized…”

“I bet those pirates still have plenty of ships at their base,” interjected Twig. “Let’s just nab one. It’ll give me a chance to make sure my family’s okay, too.”

“…provided that they have not taken to the skies in search of safety,” Alphonse finished.

“It’s the best chance we got,” said Geddy, stamping his foot in determination. “Let’s hurry!”

“Just a moment, Master Geddy. It would be prudent to make a rendezvous point.”

Geddy wiped away dirty flecks from his goggles. “I guess Vellie?”

“I thought the people of Vellie skipped town,” said Twig. “And where would it even be after all this?”

“Well…” said Geddy, hesitating.

“N-not far,” piped up Solus. “The…The Anti-Hex blasted us outward from the epicenter, b-b-but for the most part all the floating islands should have made a direct descent.”

“As long as nothing’s _underwater_ now,” muttered Twig, doubtfully.

“It is decided,” declared Alphonse. “Master Solus will begin looking for Master Otus right away. Master Twig and Master Geddy, we’ll leave to commandeer a ship. Master Twig will locate his family, and Master Geddy and I will begin our own search. In a day’s time, no matter the outcome, we will all rendezvous back in Vellie.”

He looked at each of them in turn, and each nodded.


	2. Part II

“Man, you guys are heavy,” said Twig, swinging himself from the last icy chain winch and dumping Alphonse and Geddy into the snow. “I don’t know how Otus does it.”

Geddy ignored the slight, getting up and brushing the snow off himself. “Jeez,” he said, blowing warm air into his hands and then holding them over his ears. “The wind is _freezing_. I miss my hat.”

“Did your hat even cover your ears?” asked Twig, brow raising.

“I just miss it, okay?” Geddy shot back.

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.”

“It seems we have may have taken for granted Master Otus without realizing it,” Alphonse noted, somberly.

“We’re almost at my place,” said Twig. “It’s just over the ridge.” He hopped ahead and out of sight.

Alphonse and Geddy walked to the mouth of the cave and gazed at the sky. The lightening of the day that had begun with the descent of Mesos was beginning to fade with nightfall.

“I wonder when Mesos will reach the ocean,” said Geddy, worried. He cowered a little. “Will we sink?”

“I’m afraid I do not have an answer,” said Alphonse. He laid a hand on Geddy’s shoulder comfortingly. “Let us focus on the task at hand.”

Twig suddenly bounded back over the snow, eyes wide. “Guys!”

“What? What is it?” said Geddy, alarmed.

“It’s my family! Hurry up!” Twig vaulted away again, and Geddy and Alphonse ran after him. They skidded to a stop at the lip of the ridge. Twig had already rappelled down.

“How are we supposed to get down there?” demanded Geddy, but Alphonse simply scooped him up and jumped, skidding down to the base of the slope.

The Stick family’s house was in poor shape. Large blocks of stone had fallen against the house’s roof and side, and the chimney had collapsed inward. The ice that encased and secured its foundation had deep cracks.

“Pa? Bro?” called Twig, sounding scared. A chair on the lawn had been overturned, and the metal watch post was bent in two, its clothesline tangled up in itself.

“Pirates? A raid?” asked Geddy immediately, trying not to quake.

“I believe Master Solus’s work in the Tower is more likely,” said Alphonse, observing a piece of the Tower’s promenade that had smashed into the ground.

“Guys!” shouted Twig, his voice ringing eerily in the air. He scrambled to the front door and started digging and pulling away the smaller debris. Alphonse and Geddy rushed to his side.

A gigantic piece of stone had fallen against the door, blocking it almost entirely. There was just enough room underneath for them to see that the door had splintered, and its handle had buckled in, but it couldn’t be reached.  

Twig tried to lift the stone, straining. Alphonse and Geddy lent their strength, taking one side and leaning on it hard, trying to push it over. They grunted and heaved until sweat formed on Geddy and Twig’s brows, but it was no good.

Twig hit his fists once against the stone in frustration. “Come _on_! Let me in!”

“Master Twig,” said Alphonse. Twig looked at him, chewing on his lip. “Might there be another way in?”

Geddy looked around and spied one of the upper windows. “How about through there?” he said, pointing.

Twig aimed, fired his web, and lifted himself onto the windowsill by his elbows. He peered in, but the house was dark. “I don’t see anyone.” He looked over his shoulder. “Let’s break in. Alphonse, could you smash this window?”

Alphonse nodded. “With your permission.”

“Knock yourself out.” Twig climbed onto the circular roof, sending frost heaves off the sides. He turned around on his hands and knees, coiled up his web, and fired it back down to his companions below. Alphonse grasped on, and with a heave, Twig pulled him up to the window.

“Watch for falling glass, Master Geddy,” said Alphonse. Geddy stepped back, hands instinctively coming up to shield his face. Alphonse reared his fist back and smashed through the window, grabbing the plank of wood in the middle of the frame. He pulled hard, splintering and then breaking it off. He pulled it through the opening and looked at it, as if unsure of what to do with the consequences of his destruction.

“Just toss it in,” called Twig, strain in his voice. “And get inside already, I can’t hold this forever.”

Alphonse did as instructed, squeezing through, and Twig tossed the web down to Geddy. “Up you go, short stuff.”

They all dropped down inside the house. The air was cold and dusty, and the floor was littered with rubble. As their vision adjusted, the dim outlines of the furniture took shape. Everything was overturned and in disarray. Snow from the caved in chimney had doused any fire that may have been lit. “It doesn’t even feel like anyone is here,” said Geddy.

Alphonse walked further into the room, hands resting on his hips in thought. “Is there anywhere else your family may have gone, Master Twig?”

“No!” said Twig, with surprising vehemence.“They wouldn’t leave. This place is home. They said they’d be here.”

“Maybe they took shelter somewhere?” wondered Geddy. “Like a bunker or a basement? We had those back in Advent.”

“The wine cellar!” Twig exclaimed. He scrambled over the overturned furniture and vanished into the back.

The back room was in better shape. A barrel had tipped off a counter and a few glass jars had fallen from the pantry shelves and smashed, their contents seeping into the rug, but the floor was otherwise clear. Twig threw back the rug to reveal a hatch. He pulled it open.

“W-who goes there?” a quaking voice called up from the cellar’s darkness.

“Pa!” Twig slid down the ladder. Alphonse and Geddy peered down from above.

“Twig?” A hunched, elderly stick bug with a cane slowly limped from the shadows. His luminous eyes widened. “Blimey, it really is you!”

They embraced briefly. Twig grinned, letting go first. “I guess the pirates never did find the wine cellar, huh.”

“Nope,” said another voice. It was Roland, sitting on a crate in the back. “Good thing, too.” He took a swig from the bottle in his hand.

Twig looked down at his father. “C’mon, Pa, you’re gonna freeze down here. We can make a fire outside.”

“Is it really safe out there?” asked Pa, as Twig crouched and hoisted him onto his back. Pa clung to him, still weakly grasping his cane when he crossed his arms over Twig’s neck. Twig climbed up the ladder. Roland corked his bottle of wine and stood, following suit.

“H-hey,” said Geddy to them once they were out. He gave a small, unsure wave.

Pa squinted at him as Twig lowered him down. “Another friend of Twig’s, are you?”

“Uh,” Geddy’s hand went to the back of his neck, hesitant smile in place. “Yeah, pretty much, I guess.”

He glanced at Twig. Twig pursed his lips a little. Then Alphonse’s form loomed out of the darkness, and Pa pulled on Twig’s arm, startled.

“It’s just Alphonse, Pa,” said Twig, patiently.

“Oh!” Pa appraised him. “The big pirate fellow from before…yes, I remember you.” Nevertheless, he skirted around Alphonse and let Twig lead him out into the main room. “Say, Twig,” continued Pa, “did you ever get that owl friend of yours home? It was the least you could do.”

“Sure did.” Then Twig hesitated. “Well….”

“We’re looking for him right now,” said Geddy, jumping in. “We lost him in all the chaos. Would you happen to know if—“

“Good heavens! Our chimney!” Pa stared at the pile of rubble and collapsed pipes that overflowed from the fireplace.

“Tcheh,” said Roland, surveying the damage. “Hardly worse than a pirate raid.” He walked to the front door and reached for the handle. When he pulled, nothing happened. “Huh,” he said. “Twig, how did you get in here?”

Twig shrugged. “We had to break through one of the windows.” He jabbed a thumb in its direction, where chilly air and snow drifted through. “It’s our way out, too.”

“Delinquent,” grumbled Pa.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Twig, pulling a blanket from the overturned bed and shaking it free of glass and splintered wood. He threw it over Pa’s shoulders. “I’m gonna get you out. Hold on, Pa.”

Pa grasped the blanket with two hands, wearing it like a cloak, and held onto Twig with his other two. With his nod, Twig shot his spider silk to the window sill and hauled them up and out. Twig returned a few moments later, sticking his head through the window with a small grin. “Come on, deadweights. Who’s next?”

“I guess that’s me,” said Roland distastefully, picking his way over the glass on the floor. “Freak,” he muttered, as Twig scooped him up. They disappeared through the window, and a moment later Geddy and Alphonse heard an indignant shout and a thud against the snow.

Twig sniggered, reappearing at the window, and lifted Geddy and Alphonse out next, letting them down more gently.

The group made their way over to the fire pit in the yard. Roland rubbed his haunches and sat down, uncorking the wine bottle again. Twig righted the overturned chair, and Pa creakily sat down in it. “Thank you, Twig,” he said, tiredly.

Geddy brushed away the snow from the fire pit and then stuck his hands in his armpits, shivering. Alphonse mulled over some of the splintered timber scattered around the base of the house.

“There should be some firewood around back,” called Twig.

“We’ll need something to light it with,” Roland pointed out, chin in hand.

“There’s tinder and matches in the house,” wheezed Pa. “Hurry, before my limbs freeze.”

“I’ll get it,” said Twig after looking at Roland, who made no move to stand. Twig stuck out his tongue at his brother as he passed.

“Uh…” said Geddy, awkwardly. “I guess I’ll go help Alphonse with the firewood.”

Geddy walked around to the back of the house. The cords of firewood there had toppled into a jumbled mess, and some of the logs had rolled away.

“Ah, Master Geddy,” said Alphonse, straightening. “Have you come to help?”

“Yeah.” Geddy shook out his hands, then breathed onto them and rubbed them together for warmth.

“Let’s take what we need and quickly organize the rest,” suggested Alphonse. “It would be a small service for their hospitality.”

They began to pull out logs together. “I’m glad Twig’s family is okay,” said Geddy, quietly. “Alphonse…after Advent, do you think…”

“I am not sure. Certainly I don’t believe in taking the most negative viewpoint,” said Alphonse. “But we must be prepared for any eventuality.”

“We’ve already lost so much…what am I going to do if Otus is gone, too?” Geddy crouched and draped his wrists over his knees, his head sinking between them. His tone was bitter. “If only Solus had put aside his pride and let us help sooner, then maybe—maybe—”

“Master Geddy, do you remember what you said about how you were looking for someone to blame after the tragedy at Advent?”

“Yeah, I—wait,” Geddy lifted his head and shot Alphonse a funny look, “how did you know about that?”

“Forgive me,” said Alphonse, lowering an armful of firewood into its own pile. “I had not meant to eavesdrop on your conversation with Master Otus. You had, however, stationed myself and Master Twig right outside the door, and I could not help but overhear.”

“Aw jeez,” said Geddy, scratching the back of his head. He pulled out a few more logs and stacked them in his arms, standing. “Well, you’re right. I probably shouldn’t just blame Solus for all this.” He walked over and added them to Alphonse’s pile. He didn’t sound convinced.

“I have not known Master Solus long,” said Alphonse, “but he seems to have taken a lot of personal responsibility for what has happened. It is likely he blames himself most of all.”

Geddy curled and uncurled his fingers, and pulled the next log from the main pile a little roughly. “So? Should I forgive someone just because they’re beating themselves up? Just because _they_ feel bad?”

“That’s a question you must answer on your own, Master Geddy.” Alphonse began straightening up the main pile, stacking them in neat, straight rows. “But I believe that with forgiveness, you open yourself up to healing.”

Geddy tossed his logs onto the small pile and then silently joined Alphonse in stacking the rest. They worked briskly, and soon all that was left to do was to retrieve the pile for the fire pit.

Alphonse broke the silence. “You and Master Otus remind me of some former crewmates of mine.”

“You mean like Dirk?” said Geddy, raising an eyebrow.

“Before Dirk. William and Geoffrey, gunner and navigator of a fine brigantine we shared. They were a magnificent team. Truer friends and more faithful companions I have rarely seen…until you and Master Otus.”

Geddy smiled a little at his wistful tone, but his expression quickly fell. “Alphonse? What happened to them?”

Alphonse’s head bowed, and he lapsed into a grim silence.

“I’m not sure I like this comparison….” mumbled Geddy.

“You’re alive now,” said Alphonse, firmly. “It gives me hope for Master Otus.”

“Hey, slowpokes!” called Twig, sticking his head around the side of the house. “I found the matches and tinder, are you ever going to bring that firewood?”

“Coming,” said Geddy. With their arms full of firewood, Geddy and Alphonse tromped back to the rest of the group. Logs and tinder were thrown into the fire pit, and a match was struck and dropped in. After flickering weakly in the cold wind, the fire began to grow, crackling. Everyone huddled closer.

“So what in the blazes is going on?” demanded Pa, from his chair. “Not long ago, all of our furniture started floating, and then the house nearly rose up off its foundations!”

“We tried coming out here once it stopped,” added Roland. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, dangling the wine bottle between them. “Thought it would be safer. Then huge chunks of rubble started falling out of the sky.” Everyone looked toward where the Tower’s broken off walkway had smashed against the house.

“Well, it’s a long story, but--” began Twig.  

“One we don’t have time to tell,” interrupted Geddy. He abruptly stood up.

“I must agree with Master Geddy,” said Alphonse, standing as well. “We are grateful to see you all unharmed, and now we must see to it that Master Otus is, as well.”

“Master Twig,” he continued, “would you like to stay with your family?”

Twig looked caught off-guard by the question. “Well, I, uh…” he rubbed one of his arms and looked away.

“Rest assured we won’t begrudge you your decision.”

Twig’s expression was downcast. “Can…I catch up with you guys tomorrow? Vellie, right?”

Alphonse nodded. “Yes, of course.”

A choppy sound began to fill the air, building into a crescendo. Startled, everyone glanced skyward. Pirate choppers, engines revving, had begun to sail overhead. Pa nearly dove under his chair.

“The pirates are taking off!” cried Geddy, hands digging into his hair. “If they all leave, our chances go with it!”

“Wait. I can at least get you up to the base,” said Twig, jumping to his feet. He crossed his arms and pointed at Roland. “Bro…look after Pa, okay?”

Roland raised his brows. “What do you think I’m doing all day at home, Twig?”

Twig’s hands dropped and he looked away again, ashamed. “Right. Okay, I’ll be back soon. Let’s go, guys.”


	3. Part III

Solus knew it was a foolish thing he was doing.

He had drawn on the Relics’ power too much and for too long. On the inside he felt seared, and on the outside he ached from the crush of Molstrom’s metal fist and his impact with the wall of the Tower. Otus’s friends were right: It was senseless to try to fly off and find Otus, especially on his own.

The world was falling back into place. All around Solus the islands continued to fall, crumbling here and there as they were called back to the ocean. Their descent was almost languid, and here, below the Mesosphere, it was a beautiful early afternoon. Gone was the apocalyptic storm, the thin cold air, and the shattered remains of the Owls’ labors.

Only with success did Solus know he had done the right thing. Yet the guilt felt so heavy it could’ve dragged him out of the sky.

More dirt rained down. Solus cringed and brushed it away, flying out from under the large shadows that occasionally fell over him.

He knew the truth about Otus. The first golden seal Solus discovered in the Tower, and it had led him to the others. He had found the Sanctuary, traveled to its depths, heard Aegolius and Noctae speak. Shaken, he had fled as soon as Noctae’s hologram dissipated. He returned the seals to their places, too, as if he could lock away the part he had heard about Otus.

The coastline of Mesos receded and Solus reached the open ocean. He looked for the glimmer that had been Otus falling from the Tower. The ocean sparkled deceptively, revealing nothing. Solus flew for hours, and the sun gradually tracked across the sky, pulling light blues into afternoon oranges, and then the oranges into the indigos of night.

After Advent, Strix had ordered every able-bodied owl to either assist with stockpiling or to tend to the wounded and the dead. Solus had volunteered for the latter. He looked for Otus among the bodies laid out at Vellie’s cemetery, dreading what he was certain he would find. Then came word that Otus had survived. He’d been hurt from a fall, but leaving the school had ultimately saved him.

Solus’s cloak gave out for a second time, and he tumbled onto a small island, exhausted. He tried to lift himself up by his arms, but they trembled and he collapsed again.

Solus had visited Otus’s bedside when no one was around to see. Perched at the foot of the small bed, he played with the hem of his cloak and debated what he wanted to say. There was so much he wanted to tell Otus. But even with only sleeping ears to hear him and mute lips unable to repeat his secrets, Solus couldn’t bring himself to speak. He slipped away without saying a word.

Solus lifted his head. The island he had fallen onto was hardly more than a few wingspans wide, and its soil was held together by a tree with roots that extended deep. Wind rushed up and shook the boughs, heavy with leaves and fruit.

Solus shakily crawled, then stumbled to the tree. He reached up and grabbed a piece of fruit among its lower branches, snapping it off into his hands as he collapsed against the trunk. The fruit was still unripe when he bit into it. He ate anyway, chewing through the tough skin and swallowing the bland pieces.

Solus looked out at the darkening sky as his cloak whipped around him. Otus had survived that fall, and Solus had saved him from another. It worried him how often Otus tumbled from the sky, but his resilience had given Solus hope.

But he had misunderstood. When Noctae mentioned a great battle in the sky, he hadn’t been talking about Advent.

Solus didn’t know that he’d fallen asleep until he awoke. He gasped, then coughed as the brine of saltwater flooded his mouth. He rolled onto his hands and knees and looked around. Sometime during the night, his tiny island had landed in the ocean. A shallow veneer of water swept across the grass, glimmering.

Shivering and sodden, Solus stood and hastily wrung out his cloak. It was still heavy when he opened it to the air, but a few hard wingbeats and he was airborne. The water was already beginning to overtake the trunk of the tree that anchored his abandoned isle. Dirt broke off into the water as it sank.

Solus rose higher into the sky and turned in a full circle. His heart sank. The position of the stars told him that he’d been asleep too long. Daybreak wasn’t far away. On the far horizon rose the lumpy shapes of distant mountains.

By the time Solus reached the unfamiliar continent, the sky was fully streaked with the colors of dawn. He gazed down at the rocky coastline, the illustrations from the yellowed pages of history and geography books leaping up into reality before him. The coast was a jagged, eroded cliff that stuck haphazardly out of the water. Solus swooped downward for a closer look, only to have a large spray of salt water buffeted into his face. He gasped and pulled sharply upwards, rubbing his eyes.

His next attempt was more cautious. He hovered further above, watching the movements of the waves. Over and over they broke against the cliff, and with each retreat, more water was left gathered in the shallow rocky pools below.

Solus dove down again and flew along the narrow channel between the open ocean and the cliff. The sound of the waves was a dull, rhythmic roar that he eventually let guide the buffets of his owl cloak. It was peaceful and lulling for his exhausted limbs and mind.

Too much so. Solus shook his head, trying to stay alert. He cautiously wove around fragile spires of dirt and stone. The tide pools below were dark with eroded dirt and clogged with detritus and seaweed. Then something strange glimmered in one of them and Solus halted, doubling back. 

Silver gleamed again from one of the pools. Heart beating faster, Solus landed on the slick edge of the pool. In his haste, he slipped. His knees hit the inner rim hard and his hands scraped against the gravelly sand as he tumbled into the deepening waters. He cringed in pain, lifting himself and his stinging palms out of the water. Seaweed tangled on his wrists, straying from a larger, clumpy mass of them that floated in the tide pool.

From that tangled mass hung a limp arm in a familiar silver gauntlet.

“Otus!” Solus frantically pulled the seaweed away in fistfuls. He slipped in further, the water rising to his thighs. The seaweed began to slip through his fingers, but he flung it away and pulled off more, revealing Otus’s face and neck and shabby clothes.

A wave rolled in, cascading past Solus’s hips and lifting Otus on the tide. Solus pulled Otus to him, trying to keep them both from being swept away. He took an unsteady step back, falling against the low wall of the tide pool and clutching Otus to his chest.

Solus forced his checkered cloak open. The hem was heavy with water, and he struggled to lift himself and Otus above the waves. Finally he broke free of the water, clumsily ascending to the top of the cliff. Solus’s feet touched grass. He half-stumbled, half-flew a short distance further inland, away from the crumbling edge, and finally sank to his knees, laying Otus down.

Solus’s shoulders heaved. Saltwater dripped from his feathers and onto Otus, soaking his waterlogged clothes even further. Otus was still glowing, so dim it could almost be dismissed as a trick of the sunlight. But it was there, and hope tentatively flowered in Solus’s chest. The Relics had given Otus life before, dragged him from the edge of death to sustain him long enough to restore the Owl Totem. Maybe--

 “O-otus?” tried Solus. “C-c-can you h-h-hear me?”

Otus’s eyes stayed closed; not even his eyelashes fluttered. Solus tentatively put his head against Otus’s chest, holding his own breath. As he listened for a heartbeat, motes of light rose from Otus’s body. Solus watched, stunned, as the light gradually condensed into the three Relics.

“Otus?”

The Relics floated there, pulsing faintly with power. But a few moments later they unceremoniously dropped into the grass, their light fading.

“W-wait!” Solus scooped the Relics up, but they were as dull and empty and lifeless as old shells. He could feel nothing from them, the same way he couldn’t feel the pulse of Otus’s heart.

Solus bowed his head, and slowly let the Relics fall from his arms. Despairingly, he listened against Otus’s chest again. He pressed two of his fingers underneath Otus’s collar of feathers and felt for a pulse against his neck, barely a hand’s width away from the deep, gashed bruise Molstrom’s anchor had left behind Otus’s head.

Solus listened. He listened until his neck and arm ached from being held in their positions for so long. Finally, he pulled away, and could do nothing but numbly sit in front of the body of his friend. It was as if every floating island was slowly falling onto Solus’s chest, and welling upwards from its weight was an ocean that suddenly flooded his throat and eyes. For the first time--since Advent, since the battle on the Floating Continent—big, heaving sobs bubbled up from the depths of Solus’s chest. He breathed hard and hiccupped and sniffled as tears dripped from his eyes.

“If I c-c-c-could have c…caught you I would have. I c-couldn’t this t-time. I-I’m sorry.”

Solus closed his eyes, but other terrible images were there waiting for him. Advent, a blasted husk. Aegolius’s face, gaunt with grief in the depths of the Eternal Sanctuary. The Floating Tower, in ruins. Solus opened his eyes again. Otus laid there peacefully in the sunshine, and Solus grimaced, more tears rolling down his cheeks.

“W-w-what am I g-going to tell them, Otus?” he whispered. It was fully morning now. Otus’s friends would soon be waiting for them back in Vellie, worried sick from their own fruitless search. He needed to bring Otus home.

Solus half-heartedly brushed the dirt and sand from himself, then reached over to do the same for Otus. At Otus’s hip was what looked like a large stone, but it had been chiseled and carved, and it was cracked and chipped along the edges. Solus’s eyes widened. He lifted the artifact in his palm, and a pattern of glyphs and runes lit up with a telltale face of an owl on its surface.

It seemed like a miracle that the weight of the teleporter hadn’t dragged Otus down to the bottom of the ocean. Solus laid one hand on it and the other on Otus’s shoulder, and closed his eyes again. He struggled to focus on Vellie. He remembered best the little island with the statue that housed the first Relic--on the outside it appeared to be nothing more than a leftover piece of history that had survived by chance. It was the place where Otus and Geddy had stood up for him when Fib and Bonacci had cornered him. The image in his mind wavered, but Solus held fast, hand curling around the teleporter.

The air changed, as did the ground beneath him and Otus. The earth here was softer, the grass shorter. Somewhere, a wind chime sang softly in the breeze.

Vellie. It only took a glance for Solus to realize it was empty, abandoned. Suddenly he felt relieved. He hadn’t thought about whether there would still be people in town until he’d teleported right into the middle of it. He wondered, with no small amount of dread, where Geddy, Alphonse, and Twig were among the many small, fragmented islands.

“Strix’s student? What are you doing here?”

Solus shrank away, shocked. That voice was not the low rumble of Alphonse, nor the higher, anxious voices of Geddy or Twig. It was harsher, demanding, and hoarse with exhaustion. He had only heard it a few times, but it was unmistakable.

“A-a-asio,” Solus croaked, barely audible. His throat was closing on him, and suddenly he couldn’t look up. He clutched Otus close to himself and didn’t know why. “I-I-I…”

He felt a flutter of air and the brush of Asio’s cloak as Asio kneeled next to him.

“Let me see him.”

Solus winced and hunched over Otus, gulping painfully.

“Solus.” It was a command, bitten through with warning. It intimidated Solus terribly, but it was the rough, pleading note that finally loosened his arms. Asio quickly pulled Otus away. Solus went to wipe his eyes on his cloak before he remembered it was already drenched in salt water.

Asio instinctively went through the same motions Solus did, feeling for Otus’s pulse and listening for his heart. He even lifted his hand to Otus’s face, waiting to feel faint breaths against his palm. Otus lay limply in his arms.

The realization came, and Asio’s hand settled back down to cradle Otus. The lines of his face folded into defeat.

“Otus…” Asio’s shuddering breath squeezed Solus’s own heart. “You foolish, foolish boy.”

Solus turned his head away. He was afraid. Afraid to witness Asio’s grief when his own swamped him, choked his lungs as if he were to be the next to drown. He needed to find Otus’s companions, but he couldn’t get himself to move.

“Tell me what you know.”

Solus flinched and raised his head. Asio’s eyes were flinty and brokered no argument. Solus felt even more paralyzed.

“I…he—” Solus saw Asio’s eyes narrow with anger as he stumbled, and Solus began twisting the fabric of his owl cloak in his hands, distressed. “W-well—”

Suddenly, Asio flung out a hand to stop him. Solus, taken aback, watched as he tensed and stared skyward. Then Solus, too, heard the sound of an engine.

The source was a small pirate craft, its nose tilted downward as it coasted through the clouds towards them. An arm reached out of one of the windows, waving frantically, and Solus gasped in relief. “Th-that’s Geddy!”

The craft flew over Asio and Solus, buffeting their feathers and their cloaks, and landed several islands over, into the furrows of someone’s garden plot. With one last belch of smoke from its tailpipe, the chopper puttered to a stop. The door slammed open, and Geddy leaped out.

“You found him!” Geddy shouted. He stumbled, reflexively reaching for his hat but only succeeding in landing a hand in his own hair. With several leaps he crossed the adjacent islands. Alphonse was close behind.

“Otus!”

Geddy practically flung himself to the ground in front of Asio. Asio leaned away as Geddy invaded his space, but Geddy didn’t notice--he was staring into Otus’s face. “Otus? Can you hear me?”

The silence stretched for several heartbeats. Then Geddy looked between Asio and Solus several times, waiting for an explanation. Neither could meet his eye.

Fear and disbelief seized Geddy’s expression. “No…” Geddy’s hands curled into the fabric of Otus’s shirt, and his head drooped. “No, no, no…” He said the word until his breath ran out, and then his voice shuddered into wordless sobs.

A large hand landed on Solus’s shoulder. It was Alphonse, and even as he walked past Solus, his hand stayed, its weight grounding. Comforting. His other hand came to rest on Geddy’s back.

“Master Geddy…Master Solus…” Alphonse’s voice was heavy. He sat and opened his arms to them.

Solus hesitated. Geddy, with another deep, shaky breath, slowly lifted his head and unclenched his fingers from Otus’s shirt. His goggles were misty and his nose ran. He reached for Alphonse’s hand, gripping it. Alphonse swept Geddy into his embrace, and Geddy buried his head into Alphonse’s doublet.

Alphonse gestured to Solus again, gently. Solus inched over, allowing himself to also be enfolded. He found himself shoulder to shoulder with Geddy, the side of his face pressed to Alphonse’s doublet. Solus held himself stiffly, feeling strange to be hugged by a near-stranger and a pirate. But Geddy’s sniffles soon collapsed him, and Solus turned inward, deeper into Alphonse’s embrace.

No one spoke for some time. When Solus chanced to look over Alphonse’s arm, he saw Asio. The severe owl’s face was carved deep with grief. His long, knotted fingers were carding gently through Otus’s hair. Solus quickly ducked his head again. The feeling that he had intruded on something that he was not meant to see wormed its way into his gut.

“Vellie is home, but…the others...” Geddy hiccupped, his voice muffled in Alphonse’s chest, “They’ll want to see…want to see him. We…we should….”

Solus turned his head toward him. “D-did you find the others?”

Geddy pulled away and sat up, and Solus did the same. Tears leaked from the rims of Geddy’s goggles. He dashed them away with the back of his hand, though fresh ones immediately took their place. “They’re all in a shanty town not too far from here…Kernelle, Strix, The Professor, and all the rest said they were staying there until it was safe to come back….”

“We will call for Master Twig as well,” said Alphonse, heavily. “He has not arrived yet, but we know his route. Let us take the craft and try to meet him.”

“I don’t want to leave Otus,” mumbled Geddy.

“I-I’ll go with Alphonse,” said Solus. He rose and gently unclipped the teleporter from Otus’s belt. He held the artifact out to Geddy. “G-go with Asio. W-We’ll c-c-c-catch up.” Geddy took the teleporter in both of his hands and looked down at it emptily.

The Relics still lay on the grass, abandoned. Even though their purpose was served and their power exhausted, even though they had failed Otus—Solus’s shoulders dropped in resignation. They couldn’t be left there. He gathered them up, one by one.

Asio let them all go about their arrangements without input. He stayed silent, his gaze never leaving Otus.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate how D-Pad studio specifically said they wanted the ending of the game to be up to personal interpretation. That's also why I feel I should apologize.


	4. Part IV

The tiny island that held Otus’s house was, remarkably, still intact. The upper portion with the stairwell and the fence had crumbled away somewhere into the ocean, but the rest had survived the recent cataclysm. From the outside, Otus’s house looked the same as it had not three days before.

Asio folded in his owl cloak and landed in front of the door, water nearly lapping at his heels. The islands had all but settled back onto the surface now, and Vellie was finding itself in need of shipbuilders. He was the only exception left in the village.

Asio turned the handle and stooped, letting himself in. He was not expecting to see Solus.

Clearly, Solus hadn’t been expecting him either, for he jumped and turned, a hand clutching the clasp of his cloak. “O-oh,” said Solus. “I-I was j-just…leaving a few of Otus’s things.”

Asio scowled and strode up to the dresser that was doubling as a table surface. Solus quickly stepped out of the way, head lowered.

“I-I’m sorry,” whispered Solus, and backed toward the door.

“Solus.” Asio didn’t turn around. He had gotten his answers from this nervous wreck of an owl soon after they had returned to the shanty town. Under a lean-to at the edge of the settlement, Solus had recounted, in a near-whisper, everything that had happened, with Otus’s ragtag band of companions by his side.

“Y-yes sir.”

“I recommended Strix expel you immediately. What happens to you is ultimately up to his discretion.”

“I…” Asio heard him take a deep breath. He tensed, expecting Solus to protest.

“I understand,” Solus said instead.

Asio didn’t know there could be an owl more foolish than Otus—and under Strix’s tutelage, no less. Asio had bit his tongue and gritted his teeth as Solus had stuttered and stumbled through his recounting of the events in the Tower, and everything else besides. The only thing that had stopped him from giving Solus the tongue-lashing he deserved – then, as now - was the simple fact that Solus was not his student.

“I can’t forgive what you’ve done, Solus. But Otus,” said Asio, and each word felt like yanking out feathers. “Otus would have. So you may stay in Vellie.”

“I don’t know if I could,” whispered Solus.

Asio gripped the corners of the dresser as anger he had been holding at bay suddenly flooded him. He had extended Otus’s forgiveness, and this sorry, self-pitying owl had the nerve to turn it away. “Then get out,” he hissed. “Get out!”

Asio waited to hear the door slam to punctuate and vindicate his fury. But all that came was a soft shuffle and a quiet click as it opened and closed.

Alone, Asio exhaled and lowered his head, the anger draining away almost as quickly as it came. Exhaustion took its place, and he trembled. But he refused to collapse. He would not give into this grief. He would not be brought to his knees to weep over a death he had accepted as soon as Otus had left his embrace at the lookout point.

His shadow fell across the items Solus had left on the dresser. There was the teleporter, which was a priceless artifact and yet utterly worthless. It was among Otus’s things, but it meant nothing. There was no sentimental value to it, nothing that made it Otus’s or defined his spirit. It was just a slab of engraved rock. Asio could not fathom why Solus had bothered.

Next to the teleporter stone were a handful of Buccanary Coins. Asio’s lip curled. Trinkets of made-up value by a loud woman hawking ridiculous wares. Of course Otus would feel a need to stuff his pockets with those baubles. It was easy to imagine Otus coming across them while he was off shirking his lessons, picking the coins up and turning them over in his hands with wonder and delight before pocketing each one.

Asio pushed the image away by looking at the last thing left on the dresser. He picked up a piece, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. It was some broken bits of shell. Sea junk. Perhaps they had gotten swept up with Otus in the ocean, but when he looked again he saw that Solus had carefully laid out each piece in a rough approximation of the shell’s shape.

Asio knew the significance: Some Owls believed shells carried whispers of the dead. In death, Owls had their ashes scattered to the wind, but souls that were unable to move on were said to be carried on the ocean’s waves. It was foolhardy superstition, but Otus must have believed in it if he had been carrying a shell around with him. Its shattered state brought Asio an unexpected wave of pain.

The only other thing would be Otus’s owl cloak. That was still with him. They were using it as his shroud.

Asio turned. He took in the fallen books, the unmade bed, and the battered kettle on the stove. Otus had always forgotten to turn off the stove, and it was a miracle the kettle hadn’t had a hole burned in it long ago. Where the fire was usually stoked was now just cold and dark ash, much of it spilled out of the grate. Even the things that were likely displaced by the world falling were easy to imagine as just more proof of Otus’s slovenliness.

Asio pressed his hands together and leaned his forehead against them, feeling a headache take root in his temples as he struggled to hold in his grief. All of his power couldn’t save Otus. All of his scolding, all of his berating, all of Otus’s cowering under his harshness. All of it in the hopes that one day Otus would stand straight and tall, strengthened with resolve and unyielding in the face of the hardships Asio knew his student would face. _Spare the rod and you spoil the child_. But what had been the purpose of it all, when Otus still had not survived? Asio had nothing to show for the misery he had visited upon Otus. Nothing at all.

Asio did not know how long he stood there, face pinched and head bowed, hating himself for craving absolution. He was no better than Solus, standing in the shadow of Otus’s brief life and wallowing in self-pity. He was grateful when there came a knock on the door, forcing him to put aside his ruminations. He smoothed his cloak and looked up, his face revealing nothing but his usual severity.

“Asio.” It was Kernelle. One of her hands was on the knob, the other shoved into the pocket of her lab coat. Her eyes, as usual, were hidden by the slabs of glass she had made into her spectacles. “It’s time to see Otus off.”

A piece of shell was still in Asio’s hand. He plucked it from his palm and once more balanced it between his fingers, the edges digging into his skin. He placed the piece carefully back among the others, where it once more completed the shattered outline of a shell.

Asio stooped again in the open doorway, owl cloak drawn close. Otus would usually still be in bed now, blinking tiredly after Asio had once again come in to wake him up. Asio had always been the first one out the door, left to wait outside for his student.

This time, Otus had left ahead of him.


End file.
